Heartless
by MelChanP
Summary: After suffering a fatal heart attack, Hoffman is rescued by a woman who replaces his heart with eight orbs, which function as well as a healthy one. However, with every gift, there is a curse. And it will change him into a heartless, unstoppable creature...Inspired by the Hulk. Rated M for language. Some Hoffman X Strahm. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1: The Mysterious Woman

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SAW! If I did, there would've been a SAW X (10)**

This was just what he needed. His sister was slaughtered last year; he killed the man responsible with a fake trap last week; Jigsaw may be right on his tail by now; and his car broke down in the middle of a storm, so he had to walk a mile or so home.

Just fucking great.

"Should've brought my damn umbrella." Mark mumbled to himself as he kept walking on the sidewalk. It was technically his fault anyway. He was in such a hurry to get to work on time that he forgot to check the weather channel or ask Jackie if the weather would go bipolar, like always.

The cold rain showered onto him, making his hair and suit soaked. The view before him was pitch black besides the occasional flash of thunder, illuminating his path for a split second. A loud bang followed seconds after the flash. Hoffman reached for his currently holstered gun as a reflex while he stopped in his tracks.

He sighed, either in relief or disappointment, as his hands went back to his sides. "Just the thunder." he said to himself, as if to calm himself down. He never understood why he was so...jumpy. The last time he was like that was when he was in his early thirties, when he made the mistake of watching a horror flick in the middle of the night.

Maybe it's the rain, considering that he was always more jumpy when he was freezing his ass off. He didn't know the answer. He just wanted to get home where it's warm and dry. Not to mention not so lonely-feeling. There was no one there but him. Not a single car drove by. No one passed him on the sidewalk. Maybe there were people there. He just didn't see them.

Hoffman continued walking foreward as a flash of lightning lit the way. He hoped the rain would stop soon, since he was shivering so much.

But he didn't feel that cold.

Concerned, he sat on the drenched wooden bench beside the sidewalk for a moment. His heartbeat was irregular, and he didn't know why.

As his shivering began to cease, he stood, planning to move on. But as he got to his feet, the energy seemed sapped from them, his legs growing weaker and weaker. A throbbing pain developed within his chest. He began to see small specks of light, appearing to be stars. He couldn't even feel the ground anymore as he fell.

(Several moments later)

Hoffman's eyes fluttered open, no longer feeling any rain fall on him. He didn't see any, either. No rain, no thunder. Why he didn't notice it wasn't his main concern.

A woman, possibly in her thirties, sat on the bench beside him. She looked at him with worry in her eyes, just staring at him laying on his back on the cold, wet cement.

"You're awake," she said, her accent a fresh German, "Thank God for that."

"Who the hell are you?" Hoffman said as he sat up, "And what happened?"

She stood from her bench and walked towards him as she said, "I am Rebecca Mage."

"Mage? Aren't you from that family of psychics?"

"_Ja_, I am." she kneeled to meet his eyes level, "And about what happened, I saw you laying on the sidewalk. I checked your pulse and there was nothing, but you were still breathing."

"So I had a heart attack?"

"A fatal one, _ja_. But I saved you."

"You-" Hoffman couldn't think of anything to say at that point. There was no way he could be saved from a heart attack unless he was in a hospital. There's no way she could be a doctor. He said the only word he could muster in the situation, "How?"

Mage pointed a finger at his chest and said, "I gave you a new heart."

_A new heart?_ It couldn't be it. He didn't see a single blood stain on his shirt under his blazer.

"I can feel your doubt," Mage said, "I didn't give you an 'actual' heart. I gave you eight orbs."

"Eight what?" Hoffman said with disbelief and doubt in his tone.

"Orbs." she responded, "One of them holds a small creature that keeps track of your system. Don't worry, it's harmless."

"What about the other seven?"

"Those are the orbs that, when together, function as well as a young, healthy heart."

"Really." Hoffman said, sarcasm very noticable in his voice.

"_Ja_. But there is a downside."

Silence. Not a word was spoken. Even the howling winds silenced themselves.

"You seem like a quick learner," Mage said as she stood, "I'm sure you can figure it out." She walked away.

Hoffman stood and dusted off his now filthy pants. He looked at Mage as she walked away from him.

"Crazy bitch." he said as he turned and walked off.


	2. Chapter 2: Reminiscence

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT, repeat, do NOT own Saw.**

Hoffman felt immediate relief as he approached his home. It was small, but it didn't matter. It still provided a roof over his and Jackie's heads and a garage so the car wouldn't be ruined.

He stepped onto the porch and reached for the door. Boy, does he have a story to tell her.

Opening the door and entering, he was greeted by the warmth of the heater within the house. He closed the door behind him, keeping the heat inside.

Hoffman knew something was different as he removed his wet dress shoes. It was too quiet. The only thing that broke the silence was the hum of the heater.

"Jackie?" Hoffman called as he placed his shoes beside the door to dry.

As he removed his blazer, he eyed a piece of paper on the coffee table. He couldn't read it at the current distance, but he could tell right away that it was Jackie's handwriting. He placed the blazer on the couch and picked up the paper.

The note read, "Hey, sweetie. It'll be a while before I get home. I got the late shift tonight. See you in the morning. Love you! XOXO Jackie."

Hoffman couldn't help but smile. The "XOXO" on the note made it look like it was from a teenager instead of his wife. He placed the note back on the table. She could've called, but at least she wrote a note.

He heard a faint buzz.

He looked over at the blazer lazying about on the couch, the source of the noise. He rolled his eyes. He forgot to take his phone out of the pocket. He walked over to it and searched the pockets until he found his cell phone. A picture of an envelope was on the screen, meaning someone texted him.

Hoffman flipped his phone open with a thumb and read the text.

It was from Jackie. It read, "Hey when u get home can u check the shed and c if the hedge clippers r still there? Thx :)"

He closed his phone and put it on the table. Of course she'd ask him to see if they're still in the shed. Those sneaky neighbors always head into the shed and steal something, mainly the clippers. Why they did so was beyond him.

He walked to the back door, deciding to go barefoot. There's no way he'll track mud in the house.

He opened the door and entered the backyard. The shed was only twenty feet away. At least he didn't have to walk that far. He headed to the shed, the mud getting between his toes as he stepped onto the wet ground.

The padlock on the door was unlocked, which was odd because it was locked when he left for work that morning. He already knew that someone got into the shed.

He removed the padlock as he opened the worn door. As he entered, the scent of gasoline and tires were present, due to a bottle of gas and a stack of tires sitting in the corner. Beside them was the metallic pair of hedge clippers. They were still there. But why was the padlock unlocked? He looked around to see what was missing.

Everything was still intact; the lawnmower, the spare hose, the pail, the keepsake box...

But one thing was not right: a picture in one of the boxes was broken.

Wide-eyed Hoffman hurried to the picture to see what it was and how serious it was broken.

As he picked up the picture, some of the broken glass fell off. The photo was torn and some of the frame was broken. The worst part was that it was a picture of Angelina, his little sister. The cracks on the glass covered her bright smile as if to gag her. Her eyes surprisingly shouted that she was alive.

The smile he would never see.

Hoffman carefully placed the picture back into the box. He didn't bother to look through it to see what was missing. He was feeling stressed enough. Besides, Jackie only asked for the hedge clippers. Nothing else.

He exited the shed, closing the door behind him. Inserting the padlock and locking it, he remembered Angelina, when she nearly tackled him when he got promoted. She was a hyper one, he'll admit. She always had a smile on her face, even with her bastard of a boyfriend; Seth. He was a caring guy, but there was something about him he never liked.

He found that out when he saw her corpse on her bed. He hated that image of her; the gaping wound in her throat, her blood all over her clothes, the scratches on her arms. The face was the one thing he couldn't stand to even glance at; all life was drained from her expressive eyes. He swore that he even saw her smile, as if she never realized she died.

The sick fucker learned his lesson in the Pendulum just last week, but he still couldn't get over it. He took his only family away from him.

Out of impulse, Hoffman kicked the shed door with all of his might.

"_Son of a bitch!_" he yelled. He knew that Seth was gone, but it was like he's still alive, killing God knows whom.

But he's dead, cut in half because of the pendulum. He hoped that Seth wasn't having a blast in the afterlife. Maybe he should burn in Hell for eternity because of his deeds.

Because of killing his only family.

He felt something shatter in his chest, like a piece of glass about as big as a fist broke into countless pieces. He clutched his chest as he collapsed to his knees. Something moist formed on his shirt. He immediately assumed it was blood. He winced in pain as he felt something fall through his chest and shirt and onto the grass. They looked like glass shards, covered in a black liquid.

Something red-hot filled where his heart-where one of his orbs-should be, and spread throughout his body. He grabbed a fistfull of grass and mud as the burning sensation started to reach his head. His eyes began to sting.

Hoffman's eyes snapped open. The puddle beside him reflected his eyes. They were a fierce gold, glittering in the dark.

His skin felt tighter and tighter, and he was about ready to scratch it all off. Black veins rippled across his neck and hands. His mind detected the intruder within him. It tried to push it away, to seize control. His skin faded into a grey hue. His sleeves popped as his muscles expanded. Spikes jutted out of his knuckles and back with some on the shoulders, tearing shirt even more.

He screamed in pain as his voice deepened into an inhuman roar.

Everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3: A Fair Warning

Mage sat on the bench with a black umbrella on her lap, waiting to see if anyone else was in need of help. No one so far.

The last man she saved was a strange one. He was clad in a suit, so he must be a business man. A detective, maybe? A lawyer? He certainly was a rather handsome man, but when she rescued him, she saw the outline of a wedding ring on his finger. She never understood that if he was married, he should probably wear a wedding ring.

"Happily married," she sighed, "Why is everyone I save happily married?"

Her train of thought was interrupted by a thunderous roar. One may expect her to be shocked, surprised, or even flinch, but she merely turned towards the source, as if she expected it. She sighed.

"I was hoping he would figure it out," Mage said as she stood, "I guess I was wrong." She grabbed her umbrella and ran through the muddy ground to find the source.

She only ran a few feet away before something jumped into her path, the ground nearly rumbling as it landed on the moist grass.

She stumbled and fell backwards onto her rear, ruining her skirt. The creature that stood before her was baffling to look at; its skin was a dark grey, there were spikes all over its body, its fingers were sharp like an eagle's talons, and its eyes were shining gold. To make matters worse, judging by the shreads of a shirt hanging on its shoulders and its torn pants, it used to be a human being.

"_Oh mein Gott_..." Mage said under her breath.

The creature growled.

She walked closer to it, a hand outstretched. It stepped back with a snarl on its face.

"Hey," she whispered, "It's okay." She made sure to speak her next words slowly so it would understand, "I will not hurt you."

The creature flinched as she touched its arm. "It's okay," she repeated. She then started to recite a German chant. The palm of her hand shined a white light as it made contact with the grey arm.

The creature calmly sighed. The spell was working.

It soon started to shrink. The grey color faded back to the peach skin tone. Its muscles deflated into their original size. Its black hair reverted back to a dark brown. The spikes disappeared. Most of all, the golden eyes changed to light blue. He was back.

He collapsed to his knees, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Mage kneeled on a single knee. He looked at her in the eye.

"I never asked on our first meeting," she said, "What is your name?"

"Mark Hoffman," he panted as he placed a palm on his head, as if to recollect his thoughts, "What the hell happened?"

"You can't remember?"

Hoffman shook his head and said, "All I remember was I got home, looked in the shed, got out, and that's it."

Mage hesitated before asking, "Did you feel anything, emotion wise?"

"I..." he paused, as if he didn't want to answer, "I felt a little pissed off-"

"You did what?" she said, surprisingly, calmly.

"I was a little pissed," he repeated, "Didn't you hear me?"

"I did," she said, "And that's what concerns me."

"That you heard me?"

"_Nein_. It's your emotions."

"And that concerns you-how?"

Mage sighed before speaking, "The warning."

"The what?" Hoffman said, eyebrow raised.

"Warning. Because the creature in your orbs is so sensitive, it can't take the hightened pulse of an emotion."

"In other words?"

"You can't feel any powerful emotion; anger, sadness, fear, you name it. Once you do, one of your orbs break, causing the creature to go haywire."

"Are you sure?" Hoffman said, a hint of concern in his voice.

"_Ja_. Plus, as more orbs are broken, the creature becomes increasingly violent and ruthless."

"Oh, God," he said quietly, "I...I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"_Nein_. Everyone is fine."

Hoffman sighed in relief.

"However, there is one more warning I must inform you of," she said, "You must promise not to freak out."

Hoffman nodded.

"Okay," she said, "If all of your orbs break, it will be the end of you."

He stared, a look of disbelief on his face. "What?" he nearly stuttered, "I thought-"

"If all seven of the smaller orbs are broken, the eighth orb can break also."

"You're kidding," he said, "You've gotta be joking."

Mage shook her head.

"So..." he said, "So if all of the orbs break..."

"You will die," she finished.

His gaze wavered away from hers, as if he had a sudden realization. Mage refrained from speaking to allow him to let it soak in. Any more information or warnings could not only give him an information overload, but a nervous breakdown. And another broken orb.

"I'll give you something that might help you," she said as she reached into her pockets and rummaged them. It took a bit longer than expected, but she pulled out the item she was looking for: the mood ring. The silver metal glowed beneath the moon. The color on the circle on the ring wasn't present. "Give me your hand."

Hoffman obeyed, raising his right hand. She calmly took it and slid the ring on his finger.

"How's a mood ring gonna help?" he asked.

"This will warn you if an emotion will break an orb. You will know if this turns red. It isn't indestructable, so be careful. Orbs can break without warning, depending on the strength of the emotion."

She stood, saying, "This may be our last meeting, Mr. Hoffman," as she walked away.

"Be careful."


	4. Chapter 4: Early Arrival

(The next day)

Hoffman glanced at his watch as he exited the car. Five till seven. He certainly was early. He looked around the parking lot, not seeing a single car other than his own. Or his wife's, to be exact. Good thing she had a day off or he'd have to walk to work.

He locked the car and walked inside the perimeter, stuffing his keys into his pocket. He only took a few steps inside, and his stomach already turned. It wasn't natural for the facility to be so empty or quiet. He headed to his work room, peering in every room on the way to see if someone was possibly present.

No one so far.

He looked inside the last room through the window before entering his room. Nothing but papers and scattered files. He sighed. No one was there but himself. He headed to his door and opened it, gripping the collar of his trench coat.

As he entered his room, he saw a man sitting on a black chair, seeming to read a report rather casual-like. He almost had the same uniform as him, but he didn't have his blazer on. His hair was black and kept well, and he had a weary look on his face. He covered his mouth as he yawned. He recognized the man right away.

"Strahm?"

He looked up from the paper to see Hoffman standing in the doorway. "Hoffman," Strahm greeted as he placed the paper on the desk.

"Why're you in my room?" Hoffman asked as he entered, "Not that I have a problem, but-"

"My door was locked and I lost my keys," Strahm replied, "And since Erickson's the only one that has spare keys, I'm stuck here till he shows up."

Hoffman smiled as he said, "Out of everyone in here, you're the only one that actually locks his door."

"Because I don't want Gibson to peek at my reports."

"Yet you're reading mine."

"I-" Strahm stuttered, "I wasn't."

Hoffman crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Then what is it?"

Strahm looked down as he bit his lip and fiddled with his tie.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Hoffman chuckled as he patted Strahm's shoulder and said, "It's fine. I'm just messing with you."

Strahm smiled. "Mark, don't worry me like that."

"What?" he said playfully, "A detective can't have fun?"

"I swear, you can be just like Gibson sometimes."

"But I'm more responsible."

"Yeah, that's true."

Hoffman leaned in and kissed Strahm's cheek.

"How's your wife doing?" Hoffman asked as he pulled up a chair and sat.

"She's fine," Strahm said, "Our marriage is falling apart, though."

"Why? What happened?"

"She found the rose you gave me."

"She did?" Hoffman said, trying not to sound too concerned.

Strahm nodded and said, "I'm also really worried that if she finds that note we passed the other day, she'll end up slapping me with divorce papers."

"Ouch."

"I know." Strahm's elbow was on the desk and his knuckles on his lips, his worry highly noticable in his normally serious eyes. "I don't know what I'm gonna do."

A mental lightbulb shined above Hoffman's head. He knew how he could help him.

"Do you have the note with you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Strahm replied, "I've been carrying it around since she found the rose." He saw the look on Hoffman's face and smiled. "Does my detective have a plan?"

"Pretty much." Hoffman leaned closer to him and spoke quietly. "How about this: give me the note and I'll hide it in my house. That way, you don't have to worry about your wife finding it."

"But what about your wife? Won't she find it."

"Well, unlike you, I can pull at least a thousand excuses on her, like 'Oh, a friend and I were passing it' or 'That was from a long time ago.' Things like that."

"Christ, how many tricks can you pull out of your sleeve?" Strahm said as he stood and searched his pockets for the note.

"Too many to count," Hoffman said with a smile. Strahm pulled out a folded piece of paper, the red ink bleeding through. He handed it to Hoffman and he put it in his trench coat pocket.

He remembered what he was going to ask him moments ago. He forgot it the moment Strahm started speaking.

"Why're you here so early?"

Strahm leaned on the chair and replied, "I thought I'd spend some time with you since you always get here so early."

"Strahm, you didn't have to."

"I know. I wanted to."

Hoffman couldn't believe it. Strahm, willingly, arrived early just to see him. He tried to revert back to his emotionless state, fearing an orb will break.

"I've gotta ask," Strahm said, "Did you type your report beforehand?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Did you have the spell-checker or auto-correct?"

"No. Again, why?"

Strahm nodded towards the report lying on the desk and said, "You wrote 'fro' instead of 'for' and 'yb' instead of 'by'."

"Really?" Hoffman said in a tone of disbelief as he snatched the paper and looked over it.

"Yep," he said, "I noticed it in another report over there"- he pointed at the neatly stacked papers on the stool beside the door -"I don't know where it is, though. You need to learn to proofread your stuff, Hoffman."

Hoffman sighed as he walked to the stack and picked up each paper, one by one, to find the poor report.

"Good thing I told you before Erickson got here, huh?" Strahm said. Hoffman turned to face him and pointed at him as he said, in a threatening tone, "You shut your mouth before I stuff your foot in it."

"Then don't tempt me to keep talking."

Hoffman rolled his eyes and said, "You little..." Strahm chuckled.

He continued sifting through the papers, scanning each of them, to find the report. Everything was spelled correctly so far. Every for's and by's were right. There were only five papers left. The twenty-something papers he looked through looked fine.

He felt a sharp pain in his thumb as he picked up the next page. He exclaimed in pain as he dropped the paper in reaction, the page fluttering like a leaf in the windless room, and wrapped his fingers from his opposite hand around his injured thumb.

"Are you okay?" Strahm said, immediately concerned, "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Got a damn papercut," he replied, still in pain from the cut on his thumb.

"Ow. Those are the worst."

"I know, and I forgot to get a stupid goddamn bandage!"

"I'll find one, just give me a sec or two." Strahm darted to the cabinet to search for a bandage. "And Jesus, why do you swear so much when you're in pain?"

"I don't f...I don't know!" Hoffman said, trying not to curse.

After what seemed like an eternity, Strahm asked, "Did you spill any ink or something?"

"No," he replied, "I don't even own any ink jars."

"Then what's that?" Strahm said as he pointed at the fallen paper, lying on the white tile floor. Hoffman looked down at it. There were droplets of a black substance, already absorbed into the page. The same kind of liquid that was on the shards from the other night.

"What..?" he said quietly.

He uncovered his thumb, expecting blood. Instead, the black liquid dripped from the cut. Some of it was smeared on his fingers and palm from when he covered it. He gasped and stumbled back, as if he could get away from the strange substance.

"The hell?" Strahm exclaimed, "How's your blood black?"

"I don't know!" Hoffman replied, trying his hardest to remain calm.

Strahm hurried towards him, bandage in hand, and handed it to him. "Thanks." Hoffman said as he tore off a small segment of the white strip. As he wrapped it around his thumb, he saw the look in Strahm's eyes, the look he had since he entered the room. Strahm certainly wanted him. There was no way he wouldn't acknowledge it, either.

"Tell you what," Hoffman said, "Why don't we head to the restrooms for the 'meeting'? I'll tend to you after I wash my hands to get rid of whatever the hell this is."

"Got it," Strahm said without hesitation, "Are you gonna lock the door?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

They left the room. He promised himself that he would be more careful, mainly because of the damn orbs. But he wanted to acknowledge Strahm's need. He loved him to bits and pieces.

Love...Isn't that a powerful emotion?

As they entered the restrooms, he saw Strahm loosening his tie.

XXX

I'm now accepting questions! If you have a question about this fanfic, or maybe if you're confused on something, ask me (preferably through the reviews)!


	5. Chapter 5: The White Lie

OMG OMG OMG I'm sooooo sorry for the late update! The stupid exams are coming up so I don't have a lot of time to write! I've made up for it with some comic relief in this chapter 'cause everyone needs a good laugh, right?

Review please! I enjoy your feedback!

XXX

(Several hours later)

"Hoffman?" Erickson said at the doorway to Hoffman, seated at his desk.

"What is it, Erickson?" he said, looking up at him. He looked rather disappointed.

"Is there a reason why you've hand-written your last report?"

"Um..." He looked down, tapping his desk with his fingertip. "My printer ran out of ink, so..."

"You know that if you told me, you could save it on a flash drive and print it here."

Hoffman shrugged. "Whoops."

Erickson rolled his eyes and said, "Well, I've gotta get home. Wife's sick. You'll be in charge just for tonight. Understood?"

Hoffman nodded. "Okay."

"Alright. Goodnight, Detective."

"Good night."

Erickson closed his door, leaving Hoffman to himself at his computer, typing his new report. It was another death caused by Jigsaw: a man was trapped within a maze filled with razor wire. According to the man's records, he had it all; a nice home, a well-payed job, and a loving family. The possible reason why he was Jigsaw's target was that, out of nowhere, he slit his wrists with a razor. He didn't understand why he would attempt to take his own life when he lived a rather good life.

Hoffman tried to keep his mind off of it. Just thinking about the dead body wrapped in barbed wires made him smell the blood and stomach acids again, for he was present at the scene just moments ago. He didn't like the thought of suicide one bit. It was difficult for him to zone out due to the fact that he was typing about the damn thing.

He leaned back on his chair and just stared at the screen. The report was almost done. All he needed was a witness' statement. He couldn't ask one because no one witnessed the scene, however. He sighed. This may be harder than he thought. At least it wasn't due until Tuesday. He had time.

He heard knocking on his door.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, revealing a rather young detective. It was Detective Gibson in a simple T-shirt and jeans, since his shift was over. In his hand was a black grocery bag with something in it. Clothes, maybe?

"What do you want, Gibs-" he started before he was softly hushed by Gibson. "Can I hide in here real quick?" he whispered.

"I dunno. Can you?" Hoffman whispered back.

"It's just for a sec."

"Why're you whispering?"

"For a good reason."

Gibson closed the door and tip-toed like a cartoon character to the desk on the opposite side of the room. He ducked and crawled to the floor underneath the desk. Hoffman didn't understand why he was hiding. Was he playing hide and seek? Did he do something?

He heard Strahm say, "Lindsey, have you seen my jacket?"

Bingo.

"Can't you go without it for tonight?" Perez said in the same muffled voice as Strahm.

"Look, it's below freezing out there. I'm not gonna freeze my ass off, thank you."

Hoffman bit his tongue to keep himself from laughing.

"I think I saw Matt with it," Perez said with a sigh.

"_Gibson!_" Strahm yelled as Hoffman heard rapid thumping. He must be heading his way.

Strahm opened the door, with a dark shirt and jeans, and said, "Have you seen Gibson anywhere?"

Hoffman looked over at him, and Gibson shook his head. "I've seen him, but I didn't see a jacket."

Strahm looked where Hoffman was and must've seen Gibson. He's sure in hot water.

"I was just leaving," Gibson said as he emerged from his hding spot, "I was just getting my supplies 'cause he said I could keep them in here. For today, anyway."

"Right," Hoffman agreed, deciding to play along.

"G'night," Gibson passed by Strahm and left the room. Strahm looked over at Hoffman and said, "Remind me not to trust Lindsey with my clothes."

"Doesn't that mean you should get your spares, too?" he said.

"Good point."

Hoffman nodded his head towards Gibson's location and said with a smile, "Gibson has it."

Strahm immediately darted down the hall. "Gibson, you little...!"

"Goddamn it, Mark!" Gibson said from down the hall.

Hoffman laughed. Gibson should have learned better: never trust Hoffman with a secret. He never keeps it.

Besides the one about the orbs. No one deserves to know, not even Strahm or Jackie. He doesn't want them thrown into danger. It could kill them.

He felt the creature stir within him. There was too much concern. He took in a deep breath to calm himself down.

He heard muffled ringing from his jacket pocket. He took out his phone and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

"Hoffman," he said.

"Hi, Markie!" Jackie said from the other line in a rather sing-songy tone.

Hoffman smiled as he said, "Hey, Jackie."

"How's my detective doin'?"

"Fine."

"Me, too!"

A chuckle escaped his mouth as he said, "Someone's in a good mood."

"I know! It's cause of a couple major miracles!"

"In one day? What are they?"

"Well, for one," Jackie started, "I did three successful surgeries in a row!"

"Wow, that's a new record for you," He glanced over at Strahm, standing in his doorway with his jacket on. Hoffman raised his hand and did a slight wave, and Strahm waved back. Hoffman mouthed, "Jackie," and Strahm gave a thumbs-up with a smile.

"And ask me what else I have in store!" she said, "Bet you can't guess!"

She was right. He couldn't guess what news would please a woman.

"What else?"

Jackie spoke a little quieter, as if it was a secret, but her voice tells him she couldn't contain her excitement.

"We're gonna have a little girl!"

Hoffman's eyes widened as he sat up in his chair. It certainly was a miracle indeed. He couldn't believe it. His ears must be playing tricks on him.

"Can you say that again?" he asked for good measure.

"We're gonna be parents!" she nearly squealed. Of course, he knew this was what she always wanted: her own child.

"You're kidding," Hoffman said, trying to contain his own excitement for the sake of keeping his orbs in one piece.

"I'm not!" Jackie said happily, "How great is this?"

"Great."

"Really? You don't sound excited."

"I'm just a little tired." he lied. He couldn't bring himself to tell her about the orbs. He couldn't.

"Oh, okay. That I understand. By the way, are you coming home soon? It's been half an hour."

He looked over at Strahm and smiled. "I'm working late tonight."

"Okay, then. Just wanted to be sure. Bye."

"Bye."

He closed his phone and put it back into his pocket. He wore the look anyone would recognize.


	6. Chapter 6: Strahm's Encounter

"Did you hear about the new game being played?" Perez said at the doorway of Strahm's workroom.

"This is the police department," Strahm said as he placed various files in his bag, "We hear about everything that's going on."

"So you've heard."

"Yes, Lindsey, I've heard." Strahm said in an annoyed tone.

"Just thought I'd ask, do you know the location?"

"Not yet," Strahm responded, "Haven't found Matthews, either."

"Maybe if we find the location of the game, we find Eric."

"Maybe."

Strahm slung his bag onto his shoulder as he said, "I've gotta get a new bag."

"You should," Perez agreed, "It looks a little too feminine."

"I know," Strahm chuckled as he looked at his bag, "I should just get a backpack or something."

"It's better than a purse."

"It's not a purse!"

Perez giggled like a little girl. Strahm rolled his eyes at the current amount of maturity she had. At least she wasn't like Gibson. That would be a nightmare.

"By the way," Perez said, "Try not to forget your spare clothes."

"I won't." he said.

"Gotta get going," she said with a smile, "It's getting late."

"Forgot to feed your dog again?"

"No, Harley's fine. I'm just really tired."

"Same here." he said with a yawn.

"You should get home before you end up sleep walking."

"Yes, mother," he joked.

Strahm passed Perez as he left his room. After a few paces forward, he heard Perez say, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Of course.

He searched his pockets to find his room keys. He tossed them to Perez, landing on her cupped hands with a series of clanks.

"Lock it," Strahm said, "And make sure you bring them back tomorrow, alright?"

"Got it," Perez said, "Good night."

"G'night, Lindsey," Strahm said as he continued his way to his locker. He had no clue why the lockers were on the other side of the building, but at least they were there.

Halfway there, he stopped in his tracks, concern all in his mind. Where's Hoffman?

He couldn't have gone home without telling him. He wasn't in his room. Where could he be?

The lights above him flickered before shutting off completely, almost covering his entire vision with darkness.

"Power outage," he said to himself, "Just brilliant."

He stayed where he was, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. By the time he was able to somewhat see his surroundings, he heard glass breaking. Then cabinets falling. Then a thud.

Then someone groaning in pain.

He immediately knew the voice's owner.

Strahm jogged down the stairs, careful of keeping his balance in the absence of light. As he got to the bottom step, he saw the source of the commotion with widened eyes.

A couple file cabinets were on the ground, along with pieces of translucent broken glass and clear liquid splattered around them. It wasn't exactly his main concern.

Between the glass and fallen cabinets was Hoffman, laying on his side on the tile floor, with his hands grasping his chest. As he hurried towards him, Strahm noticed crimson-colored shards on the floor beside Hoffman, covered in the same substance that escaped his cut instead of regular blood.

"Hoffman!" Strahm said as he kneeled, "Are you alright? Do you need help?"

He mentally slapped himself. Of course he needed help. He was on the ground in pain for crying out loud.

Strahm was prepared to call for paramedics, but everyone went home. This could be a problem.

What was he supposed to do? He wasn't exactly skilled in first-aid. If Perez was still present, she might help.

Hoffman muttered, but Strahm didn't hear. "What?" he asked.

"Go, now," Hoffman said in a weak tone.

Strahm was ultimately confused. Why on Earth would he leave Hoffman when he clearly needed medical help?

"Why?" Strahm said, "You're hurt. I shouldn't..."

"Get away," Hoffman said a little louder, "While you can. I don't...I don't want to hurt you."

Hoffman looked up at him. "Please."

"But..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Strahm saw that Hoffman's eyes were unfamiliar to him. They no longer had the monotonous feel that he always had, even after his sister died. They had a weaker and defenseless look, something Strahm never saw from him.

After a while, Hoffman's eyes shined gold, standing out in the dark like fireflies. Strahm stumbled back as if he was punched right in the gut as Hoffman held his head with a tight grip and writhed on the floor.

"Wha..." Strahm stuttered as Hoffman's skin appeared to turn darker, "How..."

"_Go!_" Hoffman pleaded.

Without a second thought, Strahm scrambled onto his feet and down the hallway beside the staircase. He never thought that he would abandon the man he loved, but he had to. Hoffman begged him to. He hurried into the first open room he saw and closed the door. He didn't care where he was. He just wanted to hide.

He must've not gone very far, for he still heard Hoffman screaming. Back against the wall, Strahm slid down onto the floor, his legs sapped of all of his energy. Why did Hoffman's eyes seem weaker? Why didn't he tell him?

What was happening to Hoffman?

His heart skipped a beat as he heard Hoffman's screams become deeper and deeper until it was monster-like. It didn't even sound like he was screaming anymore.

The noises ceased.

It was too quiet. Even his own heart grew silent, as if it stopped. Whatever happened to Hoffman was over. At least, he hoped it was.

Strahm flinched when he heard a muffled thump. A footstep. A heavy footstep.

He heard it again, and it was slightly louder. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. He prayed that it wouldn't find him.

After a series of thumps, the noises stopped. Maybe it was gone.

Strahm reached for the doorknob with his quivering hand. He didn't understand why he still felt frightened. There was nothing to fear.

He opened the door a crack.

Something massive stood in front of the door.

Strahm gasped and threw himself to the wall back-first, covering his mouth before he could scream. It certainly wasn't gone.

Carefully, he peeked at the creature through the slit between the wall and door. It was grey, with spikes all on its back and arms, and its golden eyes glowing in the dark.

The same eyes Hoffman had before...something...happened.

There were shreads of a shirt hanging off its shoulders and its pants were torn from the knees down. They looked like Hoffman's clothes.

No, they were his clothes.

Hoffman turned into a monster.

How did it happen? Was there something in the water?

The creature looked his way, and Strahm quickly moved from the door and back to the wall. He hoped the monster didn't see him.

There was the thumping again. It was heading his way. His heart pounded its fists against his chest. He felt a drop of sweat run down his face. He never felt so scared in his life.

He heard a deep growl from behind him. He held his breath as an ice-cold chill ran up his spine, making him shiver. The only thing he could hear besides the growling was his rapidly beating heart.

The growling grew more distant, as did the thumping. It was walking away. He quietly sighed in relief. He may be able to leave.

Slowly and with caution, Strahm opened the door. Good thing it didn't creak, or else he'd be screwed.

He walked out of the room, his eyes on the creature the whole time. Its back faced him, making it safe to escape. All he had to do was remain quiet. He looked away from it to see where he was going. He had to find the staircase to head to the bottom floor, where the exit was.

He looked back.

It was right in front of him.

Strahm yelped and jumped back in surprise. There was no way it could get that close so quickly. Maybe he just wasn't paying attention.

Without thinking, he ran to the stairs. It possibly wasn't the best idea, but he ran purely on instinct. He wanted to get away. He still had his gun in his bag, but all he could do was run. He couldn't bring himself to shooting it.

A thunderous roar pounded on his eardrums. It seemed like he provoked it. He wasn't sure.

He hurried down the stairs leading to the final floor, no longer caring if he tripped and fell. It would only provide a faster way down.

As he reached the last step, he quickly looked around for the hallway that lead to the main room.

He raced towards the hallway. He only made a few paces before he felt a quaking beneath his feet, making him lose his balance and fall. He looked over his shoulder and saw the creature with cracks on the floor underneath him.

Eyes widened, Strahm hurried onto his feet and to the hallway.

Halfway through, the loud thumping stopped. It must've stopped chasing him, but he didn't want to know. He didn't want to look back.

He heard a series of cracks, like something breaking. Was it trying to destroy the building?

Seconds later, he felt an explosion of pain in his back and something hard on it. The force of it made him fall to the floor. It felt like a piece of the wall, and it was right on top of him. He couldn't move.

Strahm saw papers fluttering towards the ground like leaves falling from a tree. They must've flew out of his bag. He heard the footsteps, but they were softer. Then there was a muffled thud.

His vision blurred and darkened.

All he felt was pain.


End file.
